The detective and the nanny (Drabbles)
by PlutoCookie
Summary: Following Mary's death, John is also murdered. Sherlock is in mourning and in his grief, becomes determined to adopt Rosie, to honour John and Mary. He fights Mycroft on the subject and devises the plan to have a live-in nanny in 221B that will look after Rosamund while he works. After a series of nannies that leave because of Sherlock's quirks, Mycroft recruits a resilient one.
1. Chapter 1

"Mary!". A gunshot resounds in the aquarium, the second to be fired that night. Sherlock's jaw drops involuntarily, an agonising roar escapes him.

"John!". The doctor hits the floor as a warm scarlet patch begins to stain his shirt. He gasps from the impact, but his eyes never leave his wife's bleeding form, as tears stream from the corners of her eyes with anguish. She had protected Sherlock for the sake of her husband, but now it seemed that her husband was sealing his fate with hers.

"Sherlock" she sobbed, reaching her hand for John. Eyes darting between his best friend and his wife, Sherlock stumbled to his feet, and through some sort of daze, managed to drag the couple together, so that they could hold each other in their final moments. Mycroft could be heard shouting angrily down his receiver in the background, but it was all just noise to the detective's ears. His whole world was tilting before his very eyes. He had 'died' to protect John from Moriarty. He had murdered to protect John and Mary. But fate had decided that third time's the charm. He failed to protect those he cared the most about, and now all he could do was hold their hands and beg them to stay awake.

"Sh-hrungghh- Sherlock….you….look after Rosie….please" Mary huffed. Tears slipped out from John's eyes, as she turned her face to look lovingly at him. "John, I love you more than anything. I do not regret a second of our time together".

"Sherlock, you're my best friend and….I love you. Mary, I've only known true happiness with you". Eyelids drooping and whites rolling, Mary slipped from life. Her hand went limp in Sherlock's, and he felt the most agonising dread as she watched this information register in John's eyes. Paramedics rushed in and began to lift John Watson on a stretcher. They kept trying to engage him, asking him to stay conscious and placing pressure on his wound. Sherlock fell back on his rump and watched hopelessly as his best friend was whisked away. The medics would fight to save his friend, but the frustratingly brilliant side of his mind had deduced that there was a high probability his friend would not make it to the hospital alive. Mycroft had done the same and was unsure of how his brother would come out of this one without embarking on a fatal drug bender. Work would have to wait. The death of his brother's best friend meant that there was a high chance that repressed memories would resurface. His brother would need both his support and careful monitoring. He waited until his brother could stand up, then ushered him into a car, bound for St. Bartholomew's hospital.


	2. Chapter 2

"You can't be serious Sherlock".

"Why can't I be?".

"A child? You want to adopt a child?".

"John and Mary's to be precise".

"But…..that would require some parenting skills, brother mine. I do not think you fully-".

"I've thought this through Mycroft. Mary asked me to look after Rosie and that is what I will do. Molly will provide a motherly role-model for her-".

"You intend to wed Miss Hooper?".

"What? No, where would you get that idea?".

"Well if you presume that she would be a prominent figure in the child's life and give up her job, then you must intend to provide for her. Marriage seems to be the obvious option" Mycroft smirked. Sherlock was silent as he considered what Mycroft had said. No way did he intend on wedding Molly. That thought had never crossed his mind. Naturally, he had presumed that Molly, having been friends with the Watson's, would be happy to assist him in looking after Rosie, but his brother had made a point. He would need someone more permanently around to look after the infant.

"Luckily for you, brother mine, I can offer an alternative suggestion" Mycroft sighed, already regretting what was about to be set forth for his brother to latch onto. "Hire a nanny who will care for the child while you are off saving the world". Sherlock's eyes danced around the room, as his mind explored this option and its viability.

"Yes, of course" he murmured softly. A nanny would be perfect. Someone that could provide the emotional stability for Rosie and see to her needs when he could not, but he would still maintain custody over Rosie and be able to protect her and ensure a promising future for her.

"Give my regards to your new ward" Mycroft smirked as he took his leave from the flat.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks. In the space of two weeks, Sherlock Holmes had enjoyed the life of having a young toddler in his flat, occupying a small crib in what was formerly her father's room. In addition, he had tolerated the company of five nannies, each of them absolutely insufferable to the last minute they dared to breathe in his direction. Each of them nagging his tendencies to enter his mind palace for a few hours, or the way in which he would spontaneously begin to play his violin while they were rocking Rosie to sleep. Really, he figured that a developing mind should be stimulated with some classics. Certainly, it couldn't be good for young ears to be exposed to their gossiping.

"Enter big brother" Sherlock muttered to himself as he set Rosie down on a blanket that was spread with some of her soft toys in the middle of the sitting area. Mycroft arrived at the top of the stairs and crossed the threshold. Glancing around him, an eyebrow quirked as though he were impressed. He gave Sherlock a meaningful look.

"She complained about my not wanting her to dust" Sherlock confirmed.

"Sherlock, at this rate I'm beginning to think this was a mistake. I've had the pleasure of earing from the second nanny about her leaving and she said 'I was told I'd have one child to care for, not two'" Mycroft teased. Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"Then stop sending incompetent individuals to my doorstep" he bit back. Mycroft pinched his nose and was silent for a moment.

"Alright. There is one more nanny on my list. And this time, I will personally assess the poor unsuspecting woman for her competency".


	4. Chapter 4

"Thank you. Final question. What do you know about Sherlock Holmes?" Mycroft sat forward in his seat, hands brought together as a perch upon which to rest his chin, as his eyes bore down on the woman in front of him. She brushed strands of wavy blonde hair from her face as she considered her answer.

"Well, there is a lot I know _of_ him from what the media spreads. However, I cannot say that I particularly know anything about the man himself that I can say with full confidence, given I've never met him. I mean, the media make things up for the sake of getting viewers. I take a lot of what is said with a pinch of salt. As far as I know, he's simply an over-glorified problem solver that works with Scotland Yard and ends up in the news for all sorts of mishaps" she spoke decidedly. Mycroft sat back and fought the upward pull that threatened the corners of his mouth. "Why did you ask me about Sherlock Holmes?" she asked, suddenly becoming suspicious. Her interviewer was an unsettling man. Clearly he was a man of power, upper class, and well-educated. Was she under investigation? Was the job offer a ruse?

"Miss Farrell, he will be your employer from this point onwards. Congratulations on your new vocation". She stood and shook his hand with a smile spreading across her features.

"Thank you so much, Mr Holmes! When do I start?".

"Immediately. A car is waiting outside to take you to 221B Baker Street" he waved her off and sat back down to begin his next line of work. She turned as directed and made her way outside. She had no idea what to expect from her new employer, but she knew that it would be nothing like her previous positions, given how obscure the interview had been.


	5. Chapter 5

Sarah used the knocker on the door of the London townhouse to announce her arrival and request entry. To her surprise, a woman answered the door, not the famous detective that she had been expecting.

"Oh hello dearie. Are you the new nanny?" she greeted with a heart-warming smile. Sarah beamed back at her and held out her hand.

"Indeed I am. Sarah Farrell".

"I'm Mrs Hudson. I'm Sherlock's landlady. Oh do come in. His apartment is just up the stairs. I'm down here if you ever need anything" she fussed and ushered Sarah into a narrow hallway.

"Thank you" she said politely, and made her way upstairs to meet her new clientele.

The first thing she noticed when she entered the flat was that it was incredibly cluttered and dusty. After that, the most peculiar objects became salient to her, such as a skull on the mantle piece, bullet holes in the wall, and….a jar containing human ears. What she failed to notice was the man leaning idly against the window sill with a violin poised to be played, though he remained still to examine her.

"Ah yes well-" he began to speak but startled Sarah out of her pondering and she let out a yelp. Eyes locked onto Sherlock, she let out a shaky laugh.

"Oh jeez, I hadn't noticed you there. You're Sherlock Holmes then?" she asked, smiling shyly. He gave her a final once over, before brushing passed her to make towards Rosie's bedroom.

"And you are then new nanny, sent by Mycroft. In here" he called for her to follow, which she promptly did. Inside, the room was simple. Aquamarine wallpaper with a dresser full of baby clothes, an oak crib with pink baby set blankets, and several soft toys dotted here and there. Sherlock bent over the crib and eased a gorgeous little baby up into his arms. She let out a noise of protest at being disturbed, but brightened when Sherlock brought his face close enough to hers to make a silly face. Face resuming a neutral expression, he turned to Sarah. "This is Rosamund Watson. Rosie for short. Her mind is still in its early stages, so I expect you to encourage much stimulation, provide the basic needs á la Maslow and so forth. You will not do anything to harm or endanger this little girl, or so help me I will make you rue the day. Is that clear?" he prattled on. Sarah was too taken with the innocent little bundle in his arms that was clearly not feeling very supported as she teetered dangerously away from Sherlock's body.

"If I may?" she said it out of politeness, but was intent on taking the girl into her arms to be held in the proper manner. She bounced Rosie on her hip, held her finger out to be grasped, and smirked back at Sherlock.

"You should hold her more so like this, in order to provide enough support to the upper body while allowing for her need to explore the environment. I'm sorry. You were saying something about keeping her safe? Check" she chirped childishly. Sherlock watched the two females before him. All other nannies had told him to sod off or given him disagreeable looks for questioning their capabilities after he gave them the introductory speech. But none of them had sought to correct the way he held Rosie or even managed to smile a genuine smile at him in response. He had a feeling that this nanny would last much longer.


	6. Chapter 6

A shrill scream resounded from the kitchen of flat 221B. Sarah stood with her mouth open in horror as she gaped at the contents of the food cupboard. Or rather, the cupboard where you expect to find food but she somehow managed to stumble upon an array of dangerous chemicals and beakers. Sherlock huffed in annoyance from his place on the couch.

"What is it?" he called out with feigned concern. Sarah knew he knew what she had seen, but the brilliant detective would of course see nothing wrong with it.

"Sherlock, you have a _child_ staying under your roof. Fair enough she can't exactly walk right now, but when she can, you're going to need to child-proof the entire flat. That means NO SCIENCE EXPERIMENTS IN THE KITCHEN!" she exclaimed as she stomped over to him. Fingers poised in a steeple above his chest, he glared up at her.

"You're here to mind Rosamund and make sure she is looked after. I also asked that she be stimulated to allow for exemplary neural development. I don't think that a lack of scientific experimentation from the comfort of home ever hurt anyone?" he sneered up at her. Sarah quirked an eyebrow at him and placed her hands on her hips defiantly.

"Karl Scheele" she replied.

"….."Sherlock's arrogance slipped for a moment. Carl William Scheele. A Swedish pharmaceutical chemist that taste-tested his discoveries and died from mercury poisoning. She was implying that Rosie would soon begin to explore her world through her mouth and could accidently consume something poisonous.

"What am I supposed to do with the equipment so that it is 'Rosie-proof'?" he relented begrudgingly. Sarah sighed and folded her arms in thought.

"I suppose if you either renovated the flat to include a work-space for yourself-".

"I work here in this space" he pointed out.

"Or, maybe ask Mrs Hudson if the unused flat in the basement can be used as storage? That way if you so desperately need to experiment, you get what you need, but clean up as soon as you are finished" her tone was more forceful on the last point. She was not volunteering to clean up any remains of his little science projects. Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes, as if to say 'I'll think about it'. Rolling her eyes, Sarah made her way back to the kitchen.

"So where _do_ you keep Rosie's food?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock called, loud enough for the landlady below to hear.


	7. Chapter 7

Two weeks had gone bye, and it was sufficient to say that Sarah was settled in to 221B. She had a routine with Rosie, where their mornings would begin with breakfast, followed by some cartoon time while Sarah tidied up the kitchen. They would then go for a walk, either to do some errands or simply to get some air. They would return for nap time and lunch, laze around for the afternoon playing with toys, much to Sherlock's discomfort. On occasion, he would drag himself over to engage with Rosie, but would soon return to his seat and stare off into space.

Sarah noticed he did this the most after he had forced himself to interact with Rosamund, and had deduced for herself that he was likely grieving for Rosie's father. She would invite him to go for an evening stroll or grocery shopping to try and lift his spirits, but he would ignore her as though she had never spoke. By 8pm, Rosie would be tucked safely into her cot and Sarah would have some down time to herself to read a book with a cup of tea or listen to Sherlock play a sift tune on his violin (he had originally played rather harsh and up tempo tunes but a chastising from Sarah eventually conditioned him to play something that wouldn't Rosie).

One morning while Sarah was pushing Rosie's stroller along the path of a nearby park, she noticed a familiar face fall into step beside her.

"Oh Mr. Holmes! Fancy meeting you here" she smiled brightly up to Mycroft. "Look who it is Rosie" she cooed at the gurgling toddler. Mycroft nodded his head in greeting.

"Good afternoon Rosamund. I see she is doing well in your care Miss Farrell. Might I ask you about my brother? Is he also doing well under your watch?" he asked, a façade of innocence surrounding him. Sarah frowned and came to a halt.

"Mycroft, I was hired to mind Rosie. Your brother is a grown man that has no child-minding skills, hence why I am now a part of his life. That is the only function that I will fulfil. If I become friends with Sherlock, then I can guarantee you that I'd be much more concerned with making sure he is faring better. However, if he doesn't want me intruding on his business, then I am respecting his boundaries as a co-habitant should" she explained rather sternly. Honestly, what was it with the Holmes characters?

Mycroft's gaze hardened at her response.

"Miss Farrell, I highly suggest that you reconsider your response, considering that I am in fact the one making sure that you are receiving a steady wage under my brother's roof. If you do not, then I will withdraw payment and terminate your contract" he threatened. Rosie began to fuss in the pram. Sarah straightened her back and resumed walking along at a leisurely pace.

"Mr Holmes, if you are so concerned about your brother's welfare, then consider improving your relationship with him and be there for him in person during his time of grief. If not, then you have my word that at the very least, I will notify you if he exhibits worrisome behaviours that indicate he is a danger to himself or others. Now if you'll excuse us, we are off to feed some ducks. Good day". She was a few steps away when Mycroft snuck in the last word.

"Let me know if he starts smoking again".


	8. Chapter 8

It happened again. Sarah had been bouncing Rosie on one hip while stirring a pot of stew with her other hand. Rosie was playing with her hair and began to cheer excitedly when she noticed Sherlock arrive home from, well, wherever it is that he had disappeared to since yesterday evening. Sarah smiled in greeting to him and had to quickly readjust her hold on Rosie, who squirmed and reached out for her adoptive father. Sherlock smirked in response and walked over, holding out his hands to hold her.

"Hello there Rosie" he greeted her softly. "And how has your day been?" he began to question the infant who, in her own babble, was responding to his voice with enthusiasm. Sarah hid a smile and took the opportunity to finish off adding vegetables to the pot. She reduced the heat, covered with a lid and left it to simmer. Washing off her hands, she turned to find Rosie being thrust back into her arms and a grim expression creeping over Sherlock's face.

Sighing, Sarah took Rosie and watched Sherlock wander into the sitting room and throw himself onto the couch. A pungent smell alerted Sarah that Rosie was in need of a change, and so she quietly crept into the infant's room. With a fresh nappy in place, Rosie was content with lying on her play mat in the living room. Sherlock was now standing over by the window, staring into the nothingness of the dreary London street below.

"Do you want to talk about him?" Sarah asked sensitively, tiptoeing up behind him. Sherlock made a perplexed face, visible in the reflection of the window pane. "About John. You seem to mourn him most after you play with Rosie" she explained quietly. Sherlock said nothing, thinking over what she had said. Sarah decided to take this as an opportunity to squeeze his shoulder, hoping it would offer him some comfort. It didn't.

"I don't need to talk about it. I don't need a hug or anything of the sorts from _you._ John and Mary are dead and it was my fault. Nothing to discuss" he spat, turning on his heel to glare at her. Sarah bit the inside of her cheek, quieting the anger that flared in the pit of her stomach.

"Fine. Don't talk to me about it, but rant at me. The more you go into your bloody mind-palace, the more you're shutting yourself off from moving on and focusing on what is still here" she gritted, pointing at the young Watson member. "So at least have an open conversation with a real person who can help you to understand you emotions if you yourself don't quite get them", she began to retreat to the kitchen when she stopped just under the doorframe. Turning to glance over her shoulder, she found him staring after her with nostrils flaring angrily. "Oh, and give up the smokes before I report to your brother". The front door slammed shut very soon after.


End file.
